Chicago
by PattiAnne
Summary: After temporarly loosing his magic due to the treatment of an STD Harry and his father, Severus Snape, go into hiding in a US ghetto.
1. Chapter 1

Chicago

Harry Potter took a deep breath before knocking on his father's door. He didnt know how the man would react to his news. Already he had had to cope with so much. He had killed his mentor and friend to preserve his position as a spy, he had faced the doubt and disbelief of the Order, and he had faced and accepted the bizarre news that The Boy Who Lived was actually his son. Harry hated to add more stress to the man, but this conversation could not be avoided.

He knocked.

"Enter." came the muffled response through the bedroom door. Harry gathered his strength and turned the knob. His father was sitting in a dark brown wing-backed chair reading. He closed his book and gestured Harry over.

"Severus, I have some news that you need to know." Harry blurted out.

Snape inclined his head toward the chair across from him. "Very well, sit down and tell me."

Harry gave an akward smile and moved from the doorway to the chair. When his father urged him along with an arch of his eyebrow, he began to explain.

"Last night I went to a party in Hogsmede. I was there with people who were in the DA two years ago. We, uh, had a good time."

"A good time?" his father asked suspiciously.

"Yes, a good time. We had some firewhiskey and some different kinds of potions. You know, not regular potions, but, uhm..." he trailed off.

"Drugs, Harry?" His father asked, sounding a little more smoothly frightening than he was used to.

Harry nodded. "Yeah... we were pretty far gone."

Snape settled back in his chair and crossed his arms. He said nothing, but radiated his displeasure.

"Well, like I said, we were pretty out of it, so we weren't caring and we ended up having sex." Harry spat out quickly.

There was a pause before Snape spoke. "And who, pray tell, is "we"?" his father asked smoothly.

"I don't remember." Harrt answered quietly. "I woke up in a room above the bar this morning. I had clearly had sex, but whoever I was with had already left. I did have, um, a bit of a rash." Harry's face was burning red at this point. He looked everywhere except at his father. "I went to Madam Pomfrey first thing, but she said she can't treat me without parental permission because it would effect my magic." When Snape said nothing, Harry choked out a plea. "I was hoping that you would come with me so that I can be treated."

Harry watched his father set the book he held in his hands down onto the end table with care. When he turned his eyes back to his son they were filled with obvious disappointment.

"As I hardly know where to began, I won't even bother. Yes, I will take you to Madam Pomfrey." Snape stood quickly and swept out of the room. Harry sprang up and followed. The walk to the infirmary was brisk and uneasy. Harry had to hurry to keep up with his father, but this caused him to ungracefully trip over his own feet.

When they entered the infirmary Mme. Pomfrey ushered them into her office. The nurse sat behind her desk with Harry and his father sitting in the stiff wooden chairs before it.

"I trust, Severus, that Harry has told you why I required your presense?" Pomfrey started evenly. Snape nodded stiffly and Harry looked down at his hands. "Very well then, " she continued, "do you give permission for me to treat Harry?"

Snape cleard his throat before speaking in a somewhat defeated tone. "What will the side effects of this procedure be, exactly?"

"Well," the nurse began "Harry's magic will be entirely diverted to his healing. He will not be able to cast spells at all for eight to ten weeks."

Harry nearly fell out of his chair. He had not heard this! "I-I... what?" he sputtered, shocked.

Madam Pomfrey looked at Harry with a slightly shocked expression. "Harry, I thought you told your father about your illness."

"I did!" Harry argued. "I did, but you didnt tell me I'd loose my magic! You only said I caught some sort of disease!"

Snape cut in. "Poppey, what exactly does my son have?"

Harry answered for her. "She said it was an auto-immune thing." He looked between his father and the nurse. Snape's face paled, but remained in standard expression, his 'Teacher Who Has No Emotions' mask. Madame Pomfey just looked very sympathetic.

After a few moments of silence, Harry dared to speak again. "Why? What is that? What does that mean?"

Harry watched his fathers stony face shift from the emotionless mask to reflect an emotion couldn't really identify.

"Poppey, may I have a moment to explain this to him?" The mediwitch nodded and shuffled out of the office. Snape sighed before he turned his entire chair to face his son.

"Dad, what is it?" Harry asked in a frightened voice. He sincerly hoped that his father was not upset by the use of the affectionate name. But when he met Harry's eyes, the young wizard saw that his slip didn't even register.

"This is quite serious Harry. The type of illness you have contracted destroys your immune system. Your body, without treatment, would eventually succom to any infection that it comes in contact with. It won't be able to fight it off."

"You me-" his voice cracked. He tried again. "You mean I could die from this?" Harry asked.

Snape, his 'bastard teacher' mask firmly in place, nodded. "However, that will only happen if this is not treated."

Harry gulped. "And to be treated I will have to loose my magic." When his father nodded, Harry broke down. He tried his hardest to keep the tears back, but they spilled over. With a chocking sob he turned away from his father. He didn't think he could bear to look at him. Undoubtedly the feeling was mutual. He was trying to curl himself into a seated huddle when he felt his father's hands on his shoulders. His long thing fingers pressed onto him and pulled Harry around to face him.

"Harry..." his father tried with no avail, to catch Harry's eye. Finally one of the long fingers that smelled faintly of potions ingrediants hooked under his chin and pulled it up. Harry met his father's gaze. "Harry, we will get through this." When the teen made no response, Snape wispered and incantation and the chair Harry was sitting on enlongated to a bench. Snape moved next to Harry and pulled him against his chest. "It will be alright, child." He murmured as he stroked Harry's black hair. "It will be alright."

Harry hoped with all his might that his father was right.

When Madame Pomfrey returned she began to discuss the more technical aspects of the treatment. Harry didn't listen; he just stayed firmly pressed against his father's side. Everytime Madame Pomfrey's words sank through the haze and registered, Harry pressed his face further into his fathers shoulder and focused on the small circles the man was rubbing into his back.

Before he knew it, Snape was pulling him up to his feet. When Harry looked questioningly at him his father gestured across the desk to Madame Pomfrey.

Apparently she was speaking.

"Try to get a good night's rest, Mr. Potter. When you return here tomorrow afternoon I shall be ready to perform the procedure. It will be quite a shock to your system. Your body is used to functioning with magic at it's disposal at all times. You will be quite exhausted. It is important that you eat and sleep as much as you can until then."

Out of the corner of his eye Harry saw his father nod to the mediwitch and turn to leave. Harry followed so lost in his thoughts that he tripped over the transfigured bench.

Of course Pomfrey was crazy. He was supposed to eat and sleep? Harry felt quite certain that his time would be spent contemplating his fatal disease and praying that his father wouldn't disown him. Harry snuck a look at his father walking ahead of him down the corridor. His pace was brisk, and Harry had no doubt that the man had a scowl on his face. Any students that had the misfortune of crossing his path practically plastered themselves to the wall with their eyes down to avoid the irate potion master's glare. They held their breathes until the man passed by, black robes billowing out behind him.

All too soon the reached their rooms. Severus stepped through the portrait hole, leaving it open for Harry to follow. He climbed through and gently closed the frame behind him.

"Harry," his father said without looking toward him, "please go to your room and wait for me there. I will... collect myself and be in shortly."

Wordlessly Harry obeyed.

He had been sitting on his bed for about fifteen minutes when his father rapped at the door. As he came in, Harry looked down. He heard the man settle into his desk chair and clear his throat.

"Harry, make no mistake- I am furious. However, you are still my son and I still love you. You will, with my help, get through this. You do not have to be... frightened. Is this understood?"

Without looking up, Harry nodded. He couldn't bring himself to meet his father's eyes.

"You were quite preoccupied while Poppy was speaking." Snape continued. "Do you have and questions about the illness or the treatment?"

In a small voice Harry asked "How likely is it that I will die?"

Snape responded quickly, shaking his head. "Your chances of dying from this illness are next to none. People who undergo treatment have a less than 1 chance of death. Those who do not recieve treatment face a virtual 100 mortality rate, but as you will be treated, you have no need to worry."

Harry nodded. "I'm sorry, Severus."

Snape sighed. "Child, why are you sorry?"

"Because of all this." Harry answered. When it became clear that Snape wanted a better answer, Harry continued. "I am sorry because I disappointed you. I didn't want to do that. I didn't want to make you have to deal with any of my stupid choices. When you took me in I told you I would be a good son. I didn't hold up to that."

Snape leaned back in the desk chair and crossed his arms. Harry could feel his father's black, narrowed eyes on him without looking. Very softly, in the silky, deadly voice the man used when angry Snape asked "Is that why you are sorry? Did you ever really think that you would not disappoint me? Did you think that you would never cause me trouble? Is that honestly something you thought that you could do?" Harry was shivering and still looking away, but his father continued. "If you honestly thought that you could go through our relationship without causing me disappointment then you are arrogant as well as hopelessly foolish."

The words stung Harry and his cheast tightened with ache. Tears streamed shamefully from his eyes. "I don't know, I'm sorry." he answered his father shakily.

"Child, it is not possible for people to be perfect. You are human. You are going to make poor choices at times. You are going to act in one way when you truely knew better. That is to be expected. I expect now, as I did when I brought you home, that you will disappoint me at times. I expected you to cause trouble, and even a few crises. That is how it is with all people, and you are no exception. You will disappoint me at times, as I will you."

Harry finally looked up at his father. "I still didn't want to disappoint you, and I am sorry I did."

Snape nodded. "So long as you realize that a bit of disappointment, especially between parent and child, is typical. I do not care for you any less."

This time Harry nodded. "I'm also sorry that I didn't use my better judgement last night. I mean, even if I didn't get sick, I knew all along that you wouldn't approve. I did it anyway."

"To which part of your evening are you refering? Sneaking out? Abusing potions? Getting drunk? Treating sex as if it were a game you could play whenever you wanted? Or attempting to hide it all from me?"

Harry closed his eyes a moment. "For all of them, Severus. I know shouldn't have left the castle, I know getting messed up on potions is dangerous, and obviously getting drunk and the sex go together and are bad. I'm sorry."

To Harry's suprise, Snape's eyes narrowed again. "You do realize you left out your worst mistake, don't you?" When Harry had no response but to blush and look confused, Snape explained. "You attempted to keep all of these from me. I am safe in assuming that this was not your first excursion into Hogsmede?" Harry looked away guiltily. "Then you had a general idea of what was going to, or could happen. Instead of owning up to your actions you snuck around. Did it ever occur to you that if you had come to me I could have taken you into town and found a less destructive way to releave stress? Did you consider that, if you still wanted to go with your friends, I could have given you a potion to keep you from completely loosing your ability to think while drunk? I could have. I could have also sent you into town with a basic knowledge of commonly abused potions and how to protect yourself from accidents with them. You were most lucky that none of the ones you used interacted dangerously. And still, if you had come to see me, I could have sent you into Hogsmede with a bit more respect for your body, as well as condoms and money for a more sanitary place to spend the night."

Harry was beet red, and shaking his head. "No, I didn't consider any of that, Severus. I just didn't think..."

Snape arched an eyebrow. "That much is obvious."

Harry stayed quiet for a minute, letting his complexion cool and his breathing even out. "Is it, you know, alright if I consider talking to you from now on? I mean, the damage is done, but I don't really want any, um, more damage." Harry asked hopefully.

The wood of the desk chair screetched against the stone floor as Snape stood up and walked over to Harry's bed. He sat down next to his son and pulled him into a tight embrace. "Of course it is, child."

Harry smiled and fisted his hands around his fathers robes. They stayed that way for several minutes, before Snape pulled back insisting that Harry needed to get to sleep for the next day. He kissed his son on the forehead and the pair exchanged 'I love you's' before Harry laid himself down for sleep. His father rubbed his back gently until it came.

The next morning Harry woke to the sound of voices in the next room. He stayed silent. When he had identified the voices as his father and McGonnagall, he gave into his curiosity and lifted his head from his pillows. He could hear the voices more clearly, but could not make out their words. He strained his ears for a few moments longer before conceding defeat and slumping back onto the pillow.

He didn't want to go out there. He didn't want to face McGonnagall, and he had no doubt that the new headmistress now knew of his little trip into Hogsmede. No, it would be far better for him to pretend to be asleep and avoid her as long as possible. The fact that his father was out there as well only served to confuse him though. He had figured, as was usually the case, that when his father was angry avoiding him was the best solution. He should therefore wish to avoid McGonnagall and his father both. Instead he felt uncertain where his father was concerned.

Last night it had been extremely clear that Severus was furious, but he had still comforted him. Harry thought back to his last memory from the night before. He was laying his face against a wet pillow trying to imagine life without magic, but was relaxing despite himself. Severus was rubbing circles on his back which were pulling him closer and closer to sleep. Eventually there had been nothing registering in Harry's mind except the circles and his own exhaustion.

That was not how Harry expected his father to act when angry. Because of this, he now felt an urge to leap out of bed and run to the older wizard. His father would still remember Harry's deeds, but would offer him comfort and support. Harry realized what he was thinking and shook himself mentally. Comfort? Support? Sure, those things would be nice, but he had survived a long time without them. He didn't need them now. Harry forced himself to remember Uncle Vernon laughing at a movie he was watching on TV. The main character, a man, was in front of a group of adults talking about being an alcoholic. He started crying, and several members of the group came up to him to offer support.

Harry had thought it was strange for the man to be so open in front of a group of strangers, but didn't understand his uncles laughter. Vernon had been laughing so hard that Aunt Petunia had come in from the kitchen to see what was so funny.

"Look at that, Pet!" Vernon laughed out while pointing at the TV. "Look at the whiney ponce!" Petunia looked at the television and grinned in amusement. Vernon, through thunderous laughter continued "Look at the whining bloke! Probably would know how to deal with a problem if it took a swing at him!"

Petunia was giggling now. "Some people just need to deal with things. Sobbing to strangers just makes them stupid. Too bad you aren't there to set them straight!"

Harry shook his head to rid himself of the memory. Though the Dursleys had been cruel about it, they had been more correct than not. Whining about his problems- his self induced problems especially- would not help him. All it would do is make him seem weak to everyone around him, including his father. "He may know I fucked up," Harry muttered to himself, "but at least he'll see that I can handle it right."

With a new resolution to avoid seeking comfort from his father, Harry forced the covers up over him. But of course, staying snuggled in his bed was probably a less than admirable way to cope. Quickly and determandly Harry swung his legs out of the bed, gathered his clothes, and went to the shower. He would be ready to face the day when he emerged from his bedroom. Still, a part of him hoped that McGonnagall would leave soon. Facing the day did not necessarly mean facing the headmistress.

Prepared for the day, Harry strode silently into the sitting room. he was relieved to see that McGonnagall had left. His father was sitting on the sofa reading from a hand written notebook. His brows were furrowed in consentration and his lips were set in a firm line. He didn't even look up as he reached for the tea cup on the edge of the coffee table. Harry noticed absently that no steam rose from it. Usually Severus hated tepid tea.

Harry edged further into the room. "Good morning, Severus." he greeted.

His father looked up. "Good morning Harry. How did you rest?" His black eyes swept Harry up and down looking for evidence of pain or injury.

"I slept quite well, actually." Harry answered.

"Good. We have several things to discuss." Snape gestured to the pile of toast on the table. "Get some breakfast and come over here."

Harry snatched a piece of toast and took some orange juice from the refridgerator. He sat down carefully in the chair across from his father. He couldn't quite meet the older mans eyes, so he focused instead on the notebook he held.

"Harry, as you are aware, the treatment you will recieve today will divert your magic, rendering you unable to perform spells." Harry nodded. "The headmistress and I have discussed this. We have come to the conclusion that this affects your safety so adversely that it would be unwise for you to remain at Hogwarts."

Harry's stomach dropped. What did this mean? Was his father sending him back to the Dursleys? Harry thought that he was free of that. Perhaps he was supposed to get an apartment somewhere else and just take care of himself as a muggle? He would have the money to survive. He would simply have to relearn to take care of himself. He berated himself silently for letting himself unlearn it in the first place.

Quickly schooling his face so that the hurt didn't show, and squaring his shoulders Harry looked up. "I understand, sir. When shall I go?"

It was Snape who seemed to be schooling his expression this time. Before he had accomplished it, Harry saw a look of offense flicker over his father's features. "You and I both will be leaving. We will go together this evening, after dinner."

Despite his earlier resolve to cope without his father, Harry felt a warm feeling spread through him. He shoved it back down. "You do not need to do that, Sir. I understand that I got myself into this mess, and that I alone should have to deal with the consequences." An inner battle raged as he said it. Part of him hoped Snape would let him handle this mess himself, but another part desperately wished his Dad would pull him into a fierce hug and protect him from everything frightening.

"Do not be so self-centered to think that you are the only one effected by the consequenses of your actions. As your concerned parent, I cannot simply ship you off to face whatever comes along. I have a conscience, as well as an intrinsic desire for you to be cared for. You will not be sent off alone."

Harry's irritation swelled. "I am not a little child that needs you to wipe my nose! I can take care of myself! For Merlin's sake I was doing it for fifteen years before you came along!" He knew he had gone to far, but the hell with it. Snape needed to back off and let him deal with this. He sprang up and started to storm toward the portrait hole. When his father stood in his way Harry pushed past him. Snape's arm shot out and a firm grip on Harry's shoulder stopped his progress toward the door. Not violently, but not gently either, Snape pulled Harry back to the chair and then pushed him down into it.

Strands of his fathers oily hair touched Harry's cheek the man was so close. Harry thought he might get freezer burn from the look in his black eyes. "I will not allow you to crawl off and lick your wounds. I will not allow you to hide, nor will I allow you to work yourself into a stupor of self pity and loathing. I will not allow you to do that to yourself. You are a strong and capable young wizard; I demand you act as such during the duration of your healing." Snape's fingers clenched Harrys chin and pulled him up to equal eye level. "Do I make myself clear?" he growled.

Harry gave a jerky nod and lowered his eyes in submission. Snape released his chin and sat back down on the chair across from him. They spent the rest of the morning packing and preparing to live in a muggle city for a month and a half. Snape did not tell Harry exactly where they were going citing security as the reason for secrecy. Harry was annoyed, but both too cowed and too angry to press the subject.

"Will it hurt badly?" Harry asked Madame Pomfrey that afternoon in the infirmary. Harry hadn't meant to sound so weak and whiney, but it just came out. He was, after all, laying flat on his back in a stiff hospital bed with bright lights shining on him. He squinted at the luminous balls that hung magically in the air right above him and turned his head toward the witch.

"No, dear, it won't hurt. It will feel strange, like a vacuum inside of you, but it won't hurt." Pomfrey answered.

Harry nodded his understanding and tried to relax on the pallet. To the left of him he could hear Pomfrey shuffeling with beakers of potion and performing diagnostic spells. To his right his father stood silently, watching each and every move the mediwitch was making. Harry tried to look at him descreatly. His father was rigid and could be confused with a statue if it weren't for his eyes and nose. His eyes darted back and forth with the witch on the other side of the room, and his nostrals flared occasionally. Harry thought it looked like the man was trying very hard to get enough air without having to move.

There was a clanking of glass and Madame Pomfrey's hand slid behind his head lifting him up slightly. "Alright, Mr. Potter, it's time to drink."

Harry looked at the thick goo in the cup. It was a dull orange-brown color and smelled like rotted fruit. Bracing himself for a disgusting taste, Harry drank the potion down. He waited a moment and then tasted his tongue. It didn't taste great, but it certainly didn't taste half as bad as Harry thought it would. On the whole he felt fine.

In a few moments that was over. Harry could feel the goo sliding through him, and it seemed to be sucking every bit of energy he had into it as it went. At first it felt a little like he was achey on the inside, and within moments the sensation had swelled to full blown exhaustion. The exhaustion wasn't a normal one. It was growing fast. It felt like this exhaustion was eating away part of him. He wimpered. A larger cool hand clamped his forehead. His father! How could he have forgotten? Harry shook his head quickly. "I'm fine, Severus. I don't need you." he ground out.

A pained and somewhat frusterated sigh excaped from Snape, but Harry felt his hand retract. It left him feeling a little alone, but Harry ignored that. He was going to handle this himself. It was, after all, his fault. His father had done nothing to deserve the situation he was being put through, and Harry was not about to let it get worse than it had to be for the man. He could take care of himself. He'd done it before and would do it again in the future. There was no reason not to do so now, except for foolish, childish yernings. Harry set his jaw in determination.

However, as the minutes ticked by, Harry's determination could not hold up against the potion. The vacuum sensation drained him quickly of his energy, but seemed to be looking for more. It got stronger, as if to catch the last bits of magic clinging to walls inside of Harry. It was one of the most horrible things Harry had ever felt. He felt like he was being gutted alive. A part of him, a large part of him, was being removed. He felt like he was being raped on the head table in the Great Hall during dinner. He knew in his mind that his magic was simply being redirected and that he would recover it in a matter of weeks, but in his soul he simple felt like a shell of a person.

Harry successfully choked back sobs, but the tears ran down his face despite this. He tried to turn his body away from his father, but when he tried to do so the man's strong arms slipped under his ribs and pulled him up. Snape sat down next to Harry on the bed and pulled the boy into his chest. Harry mashed his face against his father's robes despite the buttons. When the older wizards arm held him close and his hand began to card through his hair, Harry gave up and let the sobs come. He felt twinges of guilt poke through his consiousness from time to time, but ruthlessly stuffed them back. He would deal with this later. For the moment he was a weak little boy and simply didn't care.

Harry stumbled as he was released from the portkey. His father's hand caught him by the elbow and he managed not to completely tumble onto the ground. With his balance restored, Harry began to look around. The alleyway they had portkeyed to was dark. He could make out dumpsters and piles of garbage with the light that filtered in from the street at the entranceway of the alley. The smell was like rot and urine and hung so thinkcly in the air that Hary could taste it in his mouth. When his father turned and walked purposefully toward the street, Harry followed. The street, which a sign labeled as 55th, smelled considerably better than the alley had, though not at all pleasent. Harry pressed on through the cloud of exhaust and sewage to follow his father. The older wizard was heading east. They walked past crowds of people at a bus stop and another in the abandoned lot next to a delapidated looking liquor store. They turned right at a store-front church onto a street labeled Fedral. This street seemed abandoned compared to 55th Street. There was considerably less traffic and instead of commercial buildings this street held mostly homes.

A few blocks down Harry could see a huge cream colored building with blue light flashing off it. It was a massive block of at least twelve stories and stuck out in the neighborhood of two story rectangle brick buildings and overgrown, trash-strewen lots. The blue lights flicked again, and Harry opened his mouth to ask about them, but was silenced by a deafing roar on his right.

A grey train with green signs was ratteling by on a raised set of tracks. It pulled to a stop not far from the huge building and Harry could see people boarding and exiting the train at a raised passenger platform. The train roared off toward the lighted skyscrapers in the distance.

"Here, Harry." his father said, turning into a front walk. The building was a standard rectangle two story building. It was built with bricks that were faded to an orangish color and had a rotted wood porch attatched to the front. One of the windows on the lower level was boarded with plywood.

The two climbed the steps and Snape opened the front door with a key. Harry followed his through a dark entrance way and up a flight of stairs. Harry looked on with anticipation as Snape opened the door.

The apartment was small with one bedroom, one bathroom, and an eat in kitchen. The paint on the walls was peeling, and there were fake wooden tiles that were loose or missing entirely on the floor. Harry thought that despite this, the apartment was wonderfull.

He smiled at Severus' threadbare green couch and his brown wing-back chair. These touches made Harry instantly think of the place as home. The two bags they had eached packed were laid next to the couch. A note sat with them. Harry picked it up."

"It's from Professor McGonnagall," he told his father. "She says that she hopes that we settle well into our new home, and that her arrangement of our furniture is to our liking. When was she here?"

"She came this afternoon to drop off our things. It was very kind of her." Snape answered.

"Yeah, it was." replied Harry, looking around.


	2. Chapter 2

Chicago, Chapter Two

The next morning Harry woke to find himself in a small single bed. The covers were tight around him and he was hugging his pillow. Everything smelled unfamiliar. The vague and fuzzy shapes he could make out without his glasses looked unfamiliar too. It took Harry a moment to realize what was going on. He was in the US now, far away from Hogwarts. He and his father were hiding out until his magic returned. They were hiding until he recovered from the sexually transmitted disease he had gotten from a girl he doesn't remember. An invisible weight settled itself on Harry's chest. That was right, he had fucked up and now he and his father were half way around the world trying fix his mistake. The weight on his chest remained, but seemed to seep guilt and shame into his blood. It was coursing through him, touching every fiber of his being.

A train horn blared and brought Harry back to his surroundings. He looked around the room. There was a small pressboard dresser with a lamp on it, two partially unpacked bags, and two untouched bags. On the wall opposite Harry's bed there was another single bed. This must be where his father slept. It was already empty and neatly made. On the wall perpendicular to the two beds was a window with a low table beneath it. On it rested Harry's glasses (which he quickly put on), a book titled Wizarding Culture in the Near and Middle East, and a muggle alarm clock that read 10:00am. Harry did a double take at the clock. His father never let him sleep in so late. He was usually lucky if he got to stay in bed until 9.

His brow creased slightly. Perhaps his father would simply rather not have him around right now? Well, the man did say he was angry. It certainly made sense. Harry did not wish to venture out if Severus would prefer him to stay in the room, but he needed to use the bathroom.

Quietly Harry slipped out from the blankets and onto the floor. It was very cold and had no rugs on it. Harry looked around for the socks he had worn the night before, but they were gone. His eyes rested on his bags- he would need to unpack them, but first he would use the bathroom.

The icy floor forced Harry to almost skip out of the room and down the hall to the bathroom. Fortunately, his father had already laid out a bathmat and he had a respite from the freezing tiles. He looked around.

The bathroom was a dark, dull pinkish color that boarded on orange. The tiles were pasted to the wall with dirty grout that probably lent itself as home to many intresting species of fungi. Every so often the tiles were interupted by holes in the wall. It looked as if whoever had lived in the apartment previously had installed several towl racks, and then ripped them out with their bare hands. The ceiling was painted white and looked clean, despite the many cracks and pealings. In the center of it was a single light bulb with no globe. In front of the plastic toilet and simple sink was an old porcelin bathtub. Though it couldn't measure up against the prefect's bath at Hogwarts it was clean and deep and looked wonderful to Harry.

Once Harry tromped back to his room and found socks he realized he was quite hungry. He grimaced. He used to be able to go days without food, but spending his time at Hogwarts and then with his father had left him used to not only eating three full meals a day, but also several snacks. He would have to work on that. It wasn't as if he were fat, or even at the high end of average, but he liked knowing that he could go without food if he had to. His stomach grumbled loudly again. Harry sighed, resolving to start monitering his eating patterns after breakfast.


End file.
